


The Letter

by Goddess_of_the_Night



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Mild Language, So much angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 00:10:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2831027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goddess_of_the_Night/pseuds/Goddess_of_the_Night
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes loving someone so much that it hurts gets old and all you want is to be able to let them go. If they love you in return, sometimes they'll let you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Letter

**Author's Note:**

> Key (though I think I made it clear enough in context):  
> Character 1 is normal  
> Character 1's Letters are in italics  
> Character 2 is bold  
> Character 2's Letters are in bold italics

I think that it's time that I should just let you go. I'm over missing you, I'm over thinking about you every minute, and I'm completely over loving you. You are not mine, and you never have been, which is what makes this even more pathetic on my part. I'm pretty sure I've made up half of the things that "happened" between us, or at least the part of what it meant to you.

I can't stand the idea of facing you about this in person, so I've decided to write you a letter instead. At least that way my level of embarrassment is kept to myself and you can take time to formulate a way to nicely (if you even know how to do so) say no…or - dare I even dream? – to say you feel the same.

_Dear S,_

_I don't know how to begin this._

_I wanted to write and tell you something, but I find it so much harder to put it in to words than to think it. The truth is: since around the middle of seventh year I have fancied you. It took me a long time to accept that that's how I felt, but I can't deny it. I know I graduated two years ago and I should have gotten over this crush by now, but I haven't. I'm sorry._

_I doubt you feel the same way, but I needed to tell you in hopes that you could feel the same…or ever did. I'm not a child anymore and I can handle whatever it is you have to say, so if nothing else, please just make it the truth._

_Sincerely,  
Harry_

I reread the letter I don't know how many times, and make correction after correction on it. When a year passes and I've still yet to send it, I resign to calling myself a coward.

It's not that I forgot about you in the space of that year, though I wish I could say that was true. I wish that with everything that I am. I didn't send it simply because I was scared of losing you. It's the worst reason in history not to express your feelings: that you don't want to lose the other person's friendship by admitting your feelings. And, like it or not, we definitely have a friendship.

After I defeated Voldemort and graduated, and you somehow survived Nagini's attack, we both changed for the better and started a friendship (begrudging as it was on your behalf at first). I'm still not sure how you survived the night of the final battle; you don't tell anyone the story. I watched you die that night…I felt a part of myself die, as well. I guess I left you too soon, maybe I could have helped in some way instead of giving up, not that you needed it. Whenever I express this guilt to you, we always have the same conversation:

"Remember what happened after you left me there? That was far more important than staying with a man you presumed to be dead."

"I'm sorry," I usually say in return.

"That is hardly necessary," you reply. Two years ago (four years after my graduation) you surprised me and, looking me straight in the eye so I'd know you meant it, said "You saved the World, Harry. Capital "w", because it wasn't just the Wizarding World you saved by killing that man, it was everyone."

I had no idea what to say to that, but shortly after, I tried writing another letter.

_Dear Severus,_

_It has taken me a long time to get the nerve to write this. There are so many things to say, and they're all getting jumbled in my head. I'll try and be precise and clear, but I'm sorry if this makes no sense._

_First of all, I can't forget the night of the final battle. The look in your eyes…the sounds of your gasping breaths…the way my heart broke. It was that moment that I absolutely knew, without question, that I loved you._

I stop there. I can't send that to you, even if I do finish it and revise it a million times. It's not that it's a lie, but it seems like a stretch to even spring on you that I want to date you, much less that I'm practically ready to commit myself to you for the rest of eternity. Though that would be nice.

I realize now - having written the words - that I am beyond lost when it comes to you. I have tried to forget about you, tried to get over you, but I can't. You won't leave my mind. All I want is for you to let me go, which is terribly ironic seeing as I'm the one with all the untoward feelings. But that's how I see it: you have ahold of my heart and mind, and I want them back! _Please._

I hate myself for loving you…I once heard that line in a muggle song as Aunt Petunia listened to the radio, and it now plays as if on a loop in my head. But it's true; I do hate myself for this. You don't deserve a child 20 years your junior fawning over you when he's supposed to be your friend.

We have such a good thing going. I get to see you at least every couple of months due to our schedules. We aren't best friends who tell each other everything, but we talk and laugh, and I get to see you _smile_. If I told you of my feelings, I may never see that ever again…may never see you. Aren't I supposed to be happy being around you at all, even if I can't have you? Isn't that what they say?

I think my unhappiness stems from the fact that I don't know for sure that I can't have you. Logically I know that I can't, but I've never asked you your opinion or expressed my interest, so how do I _know_? I am truly my own worst enemy; or, at the very least, my heart and mind seem to be mortal enemies.

For the next two years I dwell on these thoughts and try to rid myself of these feelings without having to get you involved, but it doesn't work (not that I was fully expecting it to). Finally finding a sense of determination I'd been lacking up till now, I sit down to write you The Letter; the one I will send to you, no matter how much it hurts or I hate it.

_Dear Severus,_

I stare at the page for a very long time, blank except for the title. I close my eyes, dip my quill, and write the only words that will suffice anymore.

_Though I know saying these words will mean "Goodbye" to you and the life we know, I cannot go on living this lie anymore._

_I love you._

_I should have told you six years ago, before things got complicated, but I was too scared of losing you. Now I'm too scared to love you the rest of my life without you knowing. I know you don't feel the same, so please don't feel like you need to be gentle in your response, should you choose to send one._

_It has truly been wonderful to get to know you as a friend. I'm sorry I screwed it up._

_Goodbye,_  
 _Harry_

I read it three times to check for grammar or spelling errors. I touch none of the content. I call Snow over to me and hand her the letter, which she grasps in her talons.

"Take this to Severus Snape. No need to wait for a reply," I tell her before I can second-guess my actions, and she hoots before flying off. I watch her fly away until she is well out of sight, then suddenly it hits me: I just sent you that letter. For real this time.

"Oh shit. Shit shit shit shit," I place my hand over my mouth in horror, my eyes wide with fear. "What did I just do?"

In my four years of trying to write that letter, and the six spent living those words, it never occurred to me that I might not be ready for the answer.

What if you really say no? I'll be crushed and the world will be a different place. Worse: what if you say yes, that you feel the same? Where do we go from here? How do we proceed?

After about an hour of freaking out, I attempt to calm myself down, "It was the right thing to do. It was the _only_ thing to do. It had to be done," I pause, "Why did it have to be done, again? What was wrong with loving him from afar and never having him?" My heart aches at the thought, and I guess that's my answer.

For the next three days, I can barely eat or do anything else. I turn down a visit with Ron and Hermione just because I don't want them to question me about why I'm so on edge. It's not that they don't know about my feelings for you, though I've never exactly told them, it's just something that they've asked me about – and teased me for - throughout the years.

I finally receive an answering owl on day number three, and I nearly throw up just seeing it appear. I'm so afraid of seeing that you hate me and never want to see me again, or worse: that you're disgusted with me and my feelings. It takes me a good 15 minutes of just holding the letter before I open it.

* * *

**I'm shocked to see Harry's owl fly in and drop a letter on my desk. She flies away without so much as touching down, which is odd for Snow since she usually waits for me to reply while she eats a snack before returning home.**

**I open the letter without a care, use to our correspondences by now and wondering what's on the younger man's mind. Somehow, after surviving the war, The Boy Wonder and I became friends. I was reluctant to call it that at first, but over time it was abundantly clear that that's what it was, and it may have been the best thing to happen after the war. Harry helped me move on with my life and not give up, and for that I am eternally grateful.**

**As I read the letter, my mouth falls open slightly without my noticing. I had no idea that he had these feelings, much less for the entire time of our friendship and then some. How could he have fallen for the man I used to be? I was so horrible to him because of my spy role, there's no way he could have seen past that. But I guess he did…very clearly.**

**I read the letter three times in a row before getting up and making myself a cup of tea, still in a bit of a trance with the idea not sinking in.**

**I know of my feelings for him - that I have loved him since shortly after we became friends - but to think that we have both loved the other in secret for that long is too outrageous to be true.**

**All of a sudden it hits me as reality: "he loves me," I try the words out. They bring a smile to my face. I place my tea on the counter and return to the letter, already thinking of my reply.**

**_Dear Harry,_ **

**_Please don't think that you have ruined our friendship by telling me your feelings. The truth is that I feel the same for you - I have for about five years now – and am very glad to hear you return them._ **

**_I'm sorry that you ever felt like you were suffering in silence, and would love to make it up to you. I'd like to take you on a date and see how things go._ **

**_This is not Goodbye; just think of it as a new beginning._ **

**_Most Sincerely,_ **  
**_Severus_ **

**I sit back and read it over, making a few corrections here and there. It's nearly 10pm by the time I finish obsessing over it and I decide not to send it tonight; another reading in the morning won't hurt. After getting ready for bed, I fall asleep with a contented sigh and smile.**

**When I wake up refreshed, I make myself breakfast and read the paper. After cleaning up, I decide to reread my letter to Harry and see if it's ready to be shipped off this morning.**

**After the first reading with my new eyes for the day, I am disgusted that I was even thinking of sending that to him. It sounds so…desperate, and if I'm one thing, it's definitely not desperate.**

**With a slight huff I pull out another sheet of parchment and dip my quill in ink before starting over.**

**_Dear Harry,_ **

**_Please don't think that you have ruined our friendship by telling me your feelings. I am hardly angry that you have them._ **

**_If you'd allow me to, I'd like to take you on a date and see how things go._ **

**_This is not Goodbye; just think of it as a new beginning._ **

**_Regards,_ **  
**_Severus_ **

**I read it over and feel a bit better about it; less exposed and vulnerable, at least. It leaves an air of mystery that I hope he finds appealing, because I would love for this relationship to work out. I haven't allowed myself to feel this hopeful since my own school days.**

**I may finally have him and the happiness that I've been longing for. "I think that deserves a nice long bubble bath," I say to myself and leave the letter sitting on my desk.**

**After my bath, I receive an owl from Poppy saying Hogwarts needs an emergency restocking of a stomach-calming draught since Weasley products have made a comeback for the year. While I no longer teach and now have my own potions company, I still gladly restock Hogwarts' stores at a discounted price.**

**The potion keeps me busy for the next two days, and I don't even think about the letters any more in that time. On the third day after Harry's letter arrived, I am reminded that I have not sent him a response when I see my note still lying on my desk. I decide to read his letter and then mine, to judge the amount of excitement I should have in my response; maybe my first one was fine after all.**

**As I read his again, my heart sinks and I get a bit queasy. The letter, while admitting he's in love with me, has a touch of sadness and resignation.**

**"He's not asking for a future," I start slowly, "he's asking me to let him go."**

**How could I have missed that undertone the first few times through it? He has given up. I could very easily send him my response and hope he still would like a relationship with me, or I could give him what he's really asking for. If I love him as I say I do, I should only want him to be happy, and if not loving me anymore is what does that, then I have no choice.**

**With a quivering hand, I take out yet another piece of blank parchment and dip my quill. I sit that way, poised to write words that I never dreamed I would - that I would have rather died than write – for what feels like forever. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly to steady my nerves and begin to write.**

**_Dear Harry,_ **

**_I appreciate the honesty you have given me, and I am truly sorry you feel that you have suffered with these feelings for so long. You should have told me all that time ago if only to save yourself this stress._ **

**_I regret to inform you that I do not return your feelings and think of you merely as a dear friend. In my opinion, you have not "screwed up" our friendship, and should you like to continue it, you need only owl._ **

**_Not Goodbye,_ **  
**_Severus_ **

**I can only read it once through before tears block my vision. I know it's for the best – that he will feel relieved – but that doesn't change the fact that I am left with a broken heart. It would be almost comical to compare the me of right now to the me of three days ago if I weren't so personally affected.**

**My breathing begins to speed up, and I turn in my chair so I can support my forearms on my knees, leaning over slightly. I let out a sob as tears begin to stream down my face. I had let myself have so much hope after reading the letter the first time, but I should have known better. I had been so much better at dealing with my feelings before he did this.**

**I was okay thinking I would never have him, but knowing I never will appears to be killing me.**

**After freely crying and feeling sorry for myself for what could have been anywhere between ten minutes to an hour, I stand up. My gaze is drawn to the letter, and I immediately turn away and start pacing around my living room. Back and forth, left and right, growl and sigh.**

**I start to get angry with myself, "How could I let myself get so attached to the idea? My former self would have never gotten so involved before there was no way it could fall through. What have I turned in to?"**

**I march over to my liquor cabinet and grab my oldest whiskey, pouring myself a healthy glass of the liquid. I gulp down the first bit, growling at the burn, but knowing in the back of my mind I didn't feel it like I should have.**

**"Let him go," I say quietly to myself, taking a second, slightly smaller, gulp. It burns less this time.**

**"Let him go, Severus," I say a bit rougher, a bit angrier. Another gulp.**

**"You have to let him go," I insist, because I'm not listening. I'm no closer to sending that letter…that lie.**

**I empty the glass, and slam it down with a wordless yell. I don't want to do this, don't want to hurt him. But what hurts him more? Me giving him hope and not knowing if I can give him everything he needs and deserves, or setting him free before either of us can find out?**

**I know which one hurts _me_ more.**

**I look over at my desk, a few feet away, with sad eyes. I call my owl to me and walk over to fold the letter. For a long time I simply stare at the folded letter in my hand, and notice it's slightly shaking still. Cassiopeia, my owl, is staring at me with her head cocked curiously to the side, as if she knows I'm dealing with an internal struggle.**

**After many minutes, she finally gives a soft hoot, and I sigh, "I know. It's the right thing to do."**

**She shuffles closer, and I smile sadly at her, "Yes, it's time," I tell her. I hold the letter out to her and she grasps it firmly in her talon, "To Harry. Come right back."**

**With one more hoot, she is flying out the window, and my fate is sealed.**

**I dejectedly walk back over to my liquor cabinet and grab a half empty bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon. After I finish it off straight from the bottle, I perform a sad chuckle and muse: "It is so much more satisfying to drain the bottle than a glass."**

**With one last tear, I accept that it is my own fault I will be alone and miserable for the rest of my life. And here I had thought I had been doing things so much better this time around.**

* * *

I find myself glad that I had sat down before reading your response. I don't know why I'm so shocked and hurt by your answer – I knew what it'd be – but I am.

I suspect, deep down, I didn't think there was any way I had imagined so many things between us. That the sly touches, easy camaraderie, and subtly flirtatious moves meant nothing to you.

I don't know if I'm supposed to feel better that you want to remain friends…I guess I should take it as a good sign that you don't hate me and that I don't have to lose you, but how can we go back to how we were?

I can't think about this any more right now, because my head feels like a fog: the more I try to get anywhere, the thicker it gets. I can't even cry, because I'm not sure what I'd be crying for. The loss of you? That I was right and wrong at the same time? About how pathetic I was to, deep down, hope that you felt the same?

With a deep breath and listless movements, I make my way to my bed. It's not yet lunch time, but my appetite is gone and I don't know what else to do but lie down.

As I curl in to a ball under my covers, I whisper, "Maybe it's better this way. Things will be much easier," trying to convince myself. But I still know, deep down, that love is never easy, which includes both having it and trying to pretend you never did.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fanfic I have written where they didn't end up happy and together...and you may hate me for it because it killed your happy insides, but this one's done. Right here, as is.
> 
> I do have thoughts on ways to add to it, and I know how I could make them happy...but that's not life, and I don't think I even want to tempt myself. Sometimes, even though two people love each other, they don't get together.


End file.
